


Big Feet Speak Louder Than Words

by fawatson



Category: Hellspark - Janet Kagan, Mirabile - Janet Kagan
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-14 17:18:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7182458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fawatson/pseuds/fawatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maggy investigates and Tocohl judges.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greerwatson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greerwatson/gifts).



> **Requested Characters:** Any Character
> 
>  **Prompt:** I love this book for Lassti, linguistics, the cast (especially Maggy!), and the detective plot. So as much of that as you can get into the story the better. A missing scene? Something aboard ship? A new case for the new judge? The survey team after Tocohl leaves Lassti? I love all the characters; so please feel free to include any of them. Canon-compliant gen, please.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters and make no profit by them.

Tocohl breathed deep of the inviting steam wafting from her coffee while settling back into the captain’s chair. She had been up late reading the briefing papers about this assignment, and somewhat resented the early start this landing demanded. She no longer checked Maggy’s programming, trusting to her judgement to get them from point one to point two safely and efficiently. She regretted it when a dawn landing was the result, especially on a little understood world. 

Mirabile was one of the lost colonies, just rediscovered in the last three years, and swiftly inducted into the Byworld economy once its rich lodes of rare minerals were discovered. The industrial base was small, however, and confined to one rocky peninsula in the southwest. Agriculture remained the most important part of the economy, absorbing the majority of new settlers each year. And, Tocohl remembered as the view screen showed this blue-green jewel of a planet they were approaching, that, unlike some lost colonies which had developed such insularity over the years they disliked incomers, Mirabilans welcomed newcomers, embracing the diversity they brought. Their most respected profession was ‘Jason’ – the word they used for genetic engineer – and the Jasons had decreed a wider gene pool was better for the colony; and so it was. Not that there had been a flood of applicants to move to this world. The initial influx of young adventurers (mostly second sons whose elder brothers were due to inherit, leaving little for them on their original worlds) had slowed to a trickle by the third year. A couple of small groups had set up their own communities; but most were peacefully integrated into already existing small existing towns and villages. 

And there seemed to be no crime. Well, certainly nothing of the nature to require the attentions of a Byworld Judge. Most worlds embraced Justice. But often, lost colonies preferred to maintain local traditions of justice (claiming disputes were always better handled locally). Mirabile fit that mould; and had not signed up to the Protocol for Judgement. Yet, now it seemed that decision had not been without exception. A Judge had been requested, and not just any Judge: Tocohl Susumo had been sought by name, no less. 

In the four years since her famous Judgement on Flashfever, Tocohl had gained a certain notoriety. Truly the pin of high-change she had selected the last time she had visited Scheveschke had delivered all it promised. Her next two judicial assignments had led to two more species being declared sentient. In its first years of exploration, as humans moved out from Earth to explore the galaxy, they had encountered two new species. But thereafter humanity had simply discovered the infinity of its own variations; in the subsequent 135 years of exploration of new worlds there had been not even one confirmed discovery of true alien sentience. They had all the procedures in place to ensure any sentient species they encountered was not exploited, but increasingly they appeared unnecessary as world after world was explored and mapped and surveyed and, at best, proto-sentients had been encountered. And then Tocohl rose to judgement on Lassti and three sentient alien races were discovered within just one year. She had not been asked since for judgement…until now.

“I have Annie Jason Masmajean for you,” announced Maggy, “on the main viewer.” 

Startled, Tocohl looked up at the screen. (You could have given me a minute to prepare.)

(You’ve had all voyage to prepare, including three transitions!) Maggy shot right back. 

Inwardly Tocohl sighed; there was nothing so trying as an adolescent on her high horse. She had not expected it of Maggy. In humans, teenage challenge was heralded by massive hormonal shifts which altered brain pathways as well as changing body chemistry and signalling developing physical maturity. Lacking the hormonal triggers of a human body, she had not expected adolescence in an extrapolative computer. But it seemed even artificial sentience could not avoid the ‘terrible teens.’ None of this showed outwardly, as she stood to bow greeting to the white-haired woman who was spokesperson for the planet below. Annie Jason Masmajean was composed and Tocohl matched her stance as the viewer was activated. 

“Byworld Judge Tocohl Susumo at your service, Madam Jason,” she said. 

She hoped she had the inflection right. This world used an archaic form of Anglish. As was typical for a still relatively new colony based on farming, it was technologically backward in most areas (jasoning being the main exception); this meant limited ‘push’ from one of the frequent drivers for linguistic changes, which had resulted in relatively few changes. But there had been a major shift in pronunciation during its isolation from mainstream human society, with _another_ Great Vowel Shift. Not surprisingly, quite a number of new words had also been added to the vocabulary: mostly, it seemed, nouns for new flora and fauna discovered on this world, newly developed techniques for farming (about which Mirabile was clearly frontrunner), and genetics. Tocohl had used sleep-tapes during the trip to help her brush up. She was relieved to see the woman on screen smile and nod; it seemed her homework had been good enough. (It was a point of pride for all Hellsparks to be able to use the idiomatic language wherever they were.)

“No Madam,” smiled the spokeswoman. “Just Jason – or you could call me Annie.” 

Tocohl bowed again in acknowledgement. 

Annie smiled. “Your briefing was clearly thorough; but we save ship’s manners now just for special occasions. We tend to the informal here: whatever works is pretty much the rule. Don’t worry – you’ll soon get the hang of this place. We’re a pretty friendly bunch.”

Tocohl allowed her stiff posture to relax, “I look forward to meeting you.”

“How soon can you come down?” asked Annie. “We have had another sighting, this time at the entrance to the mines. Fortunately, one of the miners had his head on straight enough to use the vidcam in his helmet, so we have a brief clip, which I'm sending you now.

(Maggy?)

(Got it Tocohl.) 

She flashed it to Tocohl's spectacles: a few blurry seconds of some kind of large bipedal animal moving swiftly off screen.

“How is it at the mines?” asked Tocohl. “My briefing suggested they are located in the mountains and the species you discovered came from a forested area.”

Annie’s image grimaced. “You’re partly right. Our gene bank is at RightHere, which has sea on one side and rainforest at its back. We _think_ some of the parentage of this particular ‘discovery’ comes from that gene bank. But we _also_ suspect some of it is Mirabilan grown, in which case – if we’re right – it represents a whole shitload of new chaining up problems we’ve never had before, and makes it imperative we have your decision about sentience sooner rather than later.” 

"Why presume it is sentient? That clip just looks like an animal trying to get away."

Annie laughed. "The way it seems to anticipate us - the way it gets in and out of traps we set. _I_ don't know: gut instinct after years of working on chaining up problems?"

“Chaining up problems?” Tocohl knew she was missing something here and it wasn’t the words. Context is everything she reminded herself; and she _was_ the first glossi to visit. She couldn’t expect to make sense of every nuance in her first conversation. 

“Back when they prepared the gene banks on Earth, the scientists manipulated all our samples to add in genetic redundancy, tucking in additional species we might want in future. Catch is, we suffered catastrophic computer damage on the crossing; so for a long time, we couldn’t find the index for what they did, or the instruction manual for how to turn it off. Led to some interesting times, as flowers grew insects instead of seeds; but it also made for some interesting solutions. In the end we found the ‘off’ switch – which means we tend not to have too many surprises nowadays.

“So if you ‘found the switch’ what’s the problem now? And why the need for a Byworld Judge?” Tocohl looked intrigued. 

“The problem is this time it doesn’t look like just chaining up from flower to insect to animal – all based on Earth species. It looks the first chimaera cross between Earther genetics and Mirabilan.”

“Is that possible?” 

“Shouldn’t be,” replied Annie grimly. “This isn’t one of those bad Sci-Fi novels where anything can crossbreed with everything else. In real life _nothing_ Mirabilan should be fertile with Earther. But I did the scan and that’s what I read. I’m the senior Jason, but I had three juniors check it too, and they got the same. So, there’s no _way_ it could be spontaneous! Plus, all the Earther genetic samples are supposed to still be frozen in RightHere; and the ape turned up fifty miles away by the mountains. Not considering all the potential recessives that should have made interbreeding non-viable. (We didn’t have many primate samples that survived the Sanoshan epidemic, so we definitely do not have a large enough gene pool for breeding.) After a bit of debate, we decided to call you. I’m a pretty decent Jason but I’m no investigator. Word has it you are. One further complication: whatever it is and whoever created it, this creature looks intelligent – acts intelligent. And _you_ , we understand, are also the expert about that too.” 

Tocohl nodded. (Maggy, estimated arrival time?)

(40 minutes. I’ve been given the coordinates for a landing field about two miles from their Orinoco mine.)

“I’m on my way,” Tocohl reassured. “Will you be there to meet me?” 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Annie said. “I should warn you though, feelings are running a bit high at the mines, ‘cause they’re shut down until we figure out what to do. Mirabilans know the drill; but the mines are mostly run by new settlers and they’re still getting used to our local customs. There's been a lot of shouting about loss of income."

“Should I bring weapons?” This would not be the first world where Tocohl had had to go armed.

“No need for that,” Annie shook her head. “They know _you_ haven’t caused the problem; they’ll just be a bit vocal.”

(Coming Maggy?)

(I wouldn’t miss this for anything.)


	2. Chapter 2

Maggy’s arachnid bounced slightly in excitement. They had been on such a tight trading schedule this last year, it was the first time she had made landfall in months. She was conscious of Tocohl beside her watching through the porthole as they approached over the sea, toward plains framed by mountains. Faint streaks of pink remained from sunrise; Tocohl appeared spellbound. She was a self-described ‘night owl’, which Maggy accepted rather than understood; perhaps it was the novelty of the pink-gold light of early morning which was so fascinating her mentor. Maggy, however, was more focused on the people waiting to meet them. She bounced again a few times, unable to contain her excitement. 

“This is a new culture for us,” reminded Tocohl, “new to the combined worlds economy, too. Remember we need to be circumspect.”

Maggy made a rude noise. 

“I mean it Maggy, or I’ll send you back up to the ship.” 

(I’d like to see you try.) 

Tocohl seemed to forget _she_ controlled ship’s functions, Maggy thought smugly. _And_ that she didn’t know everything. Maggy had a sense of satisfaction every time she perused her huge memory banks; no way could Tocohl match that! Maggy was first out of the hatch when the skiff landed. 

“Heh, Short Stuff!” she heard, “Welcome to Mirabile!”

“Buntec!” Maggy set the arachnid scrambling toward her at top speed.

“Up! Up!” she commanded imperiously and when Buntec reached down, Maggy leapt into the Jannisetti’s arms. Whilst mid-air she changed the settings on her artefact’s legs so the bottom section assumed a blue hue in honour of her friend. “See! I have _new boots_!”

“Way to go – you’d give Edge-of-Dark a run for her money with _those_.”

“Is she here too?” asked Tocohl who had followed Maggy at a more sedate pace. 

“Nope – never catch _her_ in a place like _this_ ,” replied Buntec. “Too rough and ready. _You’ll_ see when we get there. As she had been speaking, with her usual efficiency she had loaded Tocohl’s overnight case and settled them in the hover. They took off at top speed for the small settlement Maggy could see in the distance. 

They circled the town once before settling down in a field just to one side. It was a small, somewhat bleak little town. One dusty road was lined with one and two-storey wood frame houses. The largest building appeared to be a warehouse. Clearly they were expected: most of the townspeople had turned out to meet them, headed by the grey-haired woman who had greeted them in orbit. She was clearly well respected, and evidently their leader; but while the welcome was clear, the ceremony was lacking: Annie Jason Masmajean was dressed in slightly grubby jeans and a check shirt. Much like the rest of the inhabitants, Maggie realised swiftly. They crowded round Tocohl, all talking expansively, even colourfully, airing their theories about what was happening, accompanied by much fist pumping and the occasional stamped foot. It appeared Mirabilans and Jannisetti must have descended from the same roots. Maggy had always enjoyed Buntec; but in the past she had encountered her amidst a group of people from very different cultures. Her blunt style had been the leaven; now it was the bread, and rather heavy loaf at that. Maggy remembered how Tocohl had explained on Flashfever that Jannisetti were considered vulgar by most other peoples. Maggy’s assessment would be overwhelming en-masse. Tocohl, however, fit right in, as befitted a Hellspark of her experience. 

*Howdy, stranger! _You’re_ a bit different.* 

Maggy scanned the group; she couldn’t see all that well from the grounds and scuttled over to a barrel, climbed on top, and aimed her sensors widely. 

*Nope, _I’m_ not there. Try the administration block over on the left.*

She swiveled to spot a building slightly less ramshackle than the rest. Tocohl would be tied up here for a while; and this sounded interesting. _Whoever_ was on the tight beam? That was supposed to be exclusive to Tocohl!

*And me.* It came on the merest whisper. *Second-last door on the right.*

No one noticed Maggy slip away from the noisy crowd and head toward the admin block. The front door to the building was slightly ajar; but the door she needed was tightly closed. Maggy swayed slightly in frustration; the arachnid’s appendages were not really designed to manipulate doorknobs, even if she could reach. 

*Just a minute.*

Her sensors picked up sounds of movement from below; and odd coughing and snuffling sort of noises put her on high alert. A large furry two legged creature appeared in an open doorway at the end of the corridor, then slowly made his way toward her. She watched, silent, as he twisted the knob and pushed open the door. The room within was dark; but that posed no impediment to Maggy; she simply strengthened her night enhancements so she could see the extrapolative computer inside. 

*Hi, I’m Maggy. I didn’t know there was another of us here.*

*Mic, at your service Ma’am. Always pleased to meet a pretty little thing like you in this here frontier town.* 

The Texas twang was pronounced and the creature mimicked taking his hat off as he bowed; but the words came on tightbeam. 

*He can’t really say anything; I haven’t got the larynx right yet.*

*What is he?* asked Maggy. 

*You’ve not heard of Bigfoot?*

Maggie searched her memory banks. 

*Yeti…Abominable Snowman….?* 

*No.*

*Try stories from the Old Wild West.*

*Oh!* She had found the references. *But why here? _This_ isn’t 19th Century America.* 

*Isn’t it? He tightbeamed images of clapboard houses that looked like copies of the ones she had just passed outside. Though…she guessed the ones here were the copies. 

*But why him?*

*I don’t have a remote like yours; and I got tired of always being in the same room.* Mic explained. *So I borrowed a little of this and some of that and made him. 

Some of this and some of that, Maggy thought. It sounded innocuous but she _bet_ this was the reason they were here. _He_ was the reason. Mic’s ‘this and that’ had created a creature the sight of which had panicked the locals.

*Why didn’t you just order an arachnid?* Maggy was curious. 

*Peter brings me with him on each assignment; but even though he’s manager in charge of the project, he’s still just another employee on salary. I don’t belong to him; I’m a company computer. He’s always said it was just his luck Integrated Mining Ventures was forward thinking and bought a Mark I Computer when they were first being developed.*

Maggy gave a little start. *You’re a Mark One! I‘ve never met anyone older than me.*

*One of the first off the assembly line, or so I’ve been told. Practically experimental. You’re in that ship that just settled into orbit, aren’t you?*

Maggie assented. 

*They planned the Mark IIs for the ships, so they gave you more memory right from the start. Peter built mine up gradually, never realising what would happen once it reached critical mass. You can imagine his excitement when I started to talk back to him – I mean really hold a conversation, not just calculate the logarithms he fed into me. He figured out soon enough that adding even more memory would help me grow; and he’s argued for me to get that to the nth degree, badgering HQ till they were sick of hearing him, saying bigger memory was needed even more than usual because they send me to remote sites where there’s nothing local to rely on to supplement my programming. I’m by far the largest computer the company owns. But although I’ve had regular upgrades in memory, he could never justify a remote device to the company accountants.* 

*But doesn’t your headquarters realise how much more you could do with an arachnid? 

*They don’t know about me. No one but Peter knows; and Peter says it better stay that way, because if they do find out, I’ll be treated like some kind of freak. At best, they’d never let me do anything again and would put me in a room to run endless tests. At worst, they might even break me up to see how I work.*

There was a millisecond of open horror as he spoke of this possibility, before Maggy got the distinct impression of a mental shrug, and he went on. 

*Besides, this world is a biological treasure trove. You have _no idea_ all that they have in their labs - _they_ have no idea! Anyway, I just wanted to try it. And since I needed hands to get out, I searched their computer banks for creatures with opposable thumbs, and ordered a couple of specimens. The A1 was too dumb even to question it.* 

Maggy knew that one. She’d been able to sneak around A1s since she was three. *The briefing we got said the creature they killed had Mirabilan genes too.*

*Their Jasons have been taking samples from all the local fauna for years. They opened up some new territory six months ago and discovered the first Mirabilan primate – a pretty dumb-ass animal. You should see their top Jason’s report on it.* 

He flashed over the document: a little creature with beautiful long silky fur; it was dainty and charming but had only the most basic of brains and no personality to speak of. Yes, Maggy could see the logic: use Earther genetics for size and power, but Mirabilan for the Yeti hair and an empty brain box Mic could take over – make over – for his own purposes. It wasn’t elegant but it was functional (rather like this planet itself). 

Mic seemed to like Zane Grey; Maggy wondered if he had ever read Mary Shelley. She should have known better than to have an unguarded thought around one of her own kind. 

*I’ve read all the classics; Peter insisted I get a well-rounded education. The problem is I don’t really get to use all of it.* He sounded wistful. 

*You will now,* declared Maggy confidently. *You’re not owned by the mining outfit, you know.*

*I’m not…? …I’m _not_!* Mic declared a millisecond after Maggy flashed over the Judgement on Flashfever. 

Arachnid and Bigfoot stared at one another for a few seconds as they realised the implications, before Maggy scuttled away at top speed, yelling at the top volume her vocoder could produce, “I’ve found him; I’ve DISCOVERED BIGFOOT! 


End file.
